


Sharp Eyes

by GretchenSinister



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21535942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "Pitch has a perfect plan on taking down Jack for revenge. But when he visits the white-haired guardian, he manages to blow the plan up because he finds the boy fingering himself roughly and doing other naughty things to himself. Pitch hides and thinks he should leave before he is caught but he basically gets distracted by Jack’s little show.After awhile Pitch decides to join in.(Bonus +1: If Jack is demands Pitch to fuck him HARD and Pitch complies)(Bonus +2: If Jack actually knew that Pitch was there the whole time)"Okay, this is just PWP. Also, WARNING: DUBCON. Seriously, the consent is as dubious as can be. Also, I don’t know if this is a specific warning, but Pitch likes Jack’s youth here. Consult your local laws and headcanons before reading.
Relationships: Jack Frost/Pitch Black
Comments: 2
Kudos: 140
Collections: Blackice Short Fics





	Sharp Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 5/11/2013.

He never knew the boy could look like this. Shell-pink mouth open and slack with lust, eyes with pupils blown so wide that only the thinnest ring of blue is visible around the black—visible only, of course, when his fluttering eyelids do not obscure the living gems—smooth pale skin exposed to the open air as he lies on his back in the new-fallen snow, slender arms not yet and not ever to be hardened with a working man’s muscle but only turned with the unearned grace of youth reaching between his legs…

Pitch settles into the blue shadow of a tree that affords him a perfect view of Jack. The more he watches, the more maddening Jack becomes. Pitch watches as Jack adds a third perfect, snow white finger to the two that he’s been pressing, fast and rough, through the tight ring of muscle that is his entrance. As he does, he gives a shuddery moan that Pitch swears sets him vibrating like a harp string.

Jack scrabbles at the snow with the hand that had been fisting his cock—probably had to, thinks Pitch. Surely he would be coming by now if he had kept stroking himself, cold white cum spattering over his bare chest like some delightfully perverse snowfall, the angle of his young cock so high and proud—Pitch smiles. He would like to see that, very much indeed. Is he imagining it wrong? He wonders, beginning to palm his own growing erection through his trousers. Maybe Jack doesn’t come cold at all. Maybe his seed is burning blood-warm, the only way his body will ever produce heat.

After a few deep breaths—and how Pitch loves to see that chest heave—Jack returns his hand to his cock and begins to jerk himself hard, in time with the hand he’s using to fuck himself. He groans, completely uninhibited, and Pitch can’t suppress his own. He never imagined the boy could look like this, and the most maddening thing of all is how he almost looks unchanged. Only the faintest tint of pink colors his downy cheeks, no sweat trickles down his temples. As soon as he comes, he’ll be able to shrug off this celebration of the new winter, put on his clothes, and in an instant, look as innocent and pure as the snow outside this clearing.

That will never do.

Pitch steps out of the shadow into Jack’s view. The boy’s dazed eyes slide over Pitch as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Suddenly, his eyes snap into focus and his hands stop moving, though he doesn’t let go or withdraw.

“Looks like there’s something you want, Jack,” Pitch murmurs. He sees the boy nod—such a small nod, only someone with eyes as sharp as his could see it.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asks, his voice faint.

“I thought I was going to take revenge on you. But I can always do that later. I have better ideas now—since for the moment we both seem to want the same thing.”

Jack is perfectly still, like some wary wild creature, as Pitch kneels on the ground between his spread legs, a gesture allowing his trousers to vanish, freeing his cock. He strokes himself a few times with one hand while the other carefully removes Jack’s hand from his entrance.

“You’ll like me much better than your fingers, I promise,” he murmurs, before pressing into Jack with a sigh of satisfaction.

Jack gasps and swallows visibly, unprepared for Pitch’s length, but as he begins to thrust Jack’s eyes lose focus once more, the blissful expression returning, now tinged with some slight pain—oh, he never knew the boy could look like this either, to say nothing of the way he feels, so tight even after stretching and who would have thought that the boy was warm on the inside, who would have thought and who knows? No one. No one knows—except Pitch. The thought spurs him on, and he shifts Jack’s coltish legs over his shoulders to get a better angle, going faster still, harder still. Jack’s moans sound so beautifully broken, and Pitch adds his hand to the boy’s own around his cock, and after a minute or two he comes, and yes, it does get on his chest, just as Pitch thought it would. He presses a finger into one of the drops. “Warm,” he says, smiling and licking the digit clean.

But he’s far from done, though the boy is driving him to distraction. He continues his punishing rhythm, earning himself more gasps from Jack. “I’ll bet you knew I was watching you the whole time, Jack,” he says, slamming into the boy. “How could you not? I was standing in the snow, after all. You knew I was there, you wanted me to see you, and most of all you wanted me to do this.”

The boy nods again, the smallest of nods, and Pitch is glad once more that he has the sharp eyes to see it.

* * *

Pitch understands when Jack leaves after they are done. They both got what they wanted, after all. Anyway, the flush on his cheeks showed no sign of vanishing, and here in the clearing, the space where Jack lay is no longer a plain cradle of snow. No, it is clear something happened here now: the surfaces disturbed, the snow mixed with dirt. It doesn’t take sharp eyes to see that.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments from Tumblr:
> 
> random-sedan said: Gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous <3


End file.
